


my heart's a stereo (it beats for you so listen close)

by seaworn



Series: i am to see to it that i do not lose you [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Established Relationship, Groping, Kissing, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Haired Otabek Altin, Long-Haired Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Tension, That will get resolved, Trying to figure out how relationships work basically, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Viktuuri as a side pairing, World Figure Skating Championships, that's important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/pseuds/seaworn
Summary: Otabek looked good. That was always an understatement, but he did.  He was wearing a soft smile and a leather jacket, and wasn’t that just the sweetest combination you could think of? He looked exactly the same like he’d looked when they were Skyping just a few days prior, but Yuri drank him in anyway.**Yuri and Otabek finally meet at Worlds.





	1. chapter 1

Yuri wanted coffee.

 

He didn’t dare to ask Yakov for that, though. He wasn’t supposed to drink coffee before competing.

 

Yuri hadn't slept very well and he desperately something to boost his spirits. He'd been jittery and nervous the whole flight and even before that - uncharacteristically so.

 

Yakov kept babbling instructions,  Mila was humming her choreography song aloud and the people around him were way too loud too. Yuri squinted his eyes to scan the Tokyo International Airport before sliding his sunglasses on.  Yuri lifted the hood of his jumper to cover his face, but Mila yanked it right back down with a hiss of _“be nice to your fans!”_

 

And indeed, there _were_ a little bit of people waiting outside the baggage claims, phones ready to take pictures. Yuri gave a few awkward waves to their direction, incredibly happy that Yakov had a really scary, bodyguard-ish look to him and nobody dared to come close if he was giving them _the_ _look_. They’d have time for fan meetings during the actual competition, but right now they all just wanted to get to the hotel in one piece.

 

Yuri automatically scanned the baggage claims for a familiar face even though he _knew_ the exact arrival time of the next plane from Astana.

 

He huffed with unspent tension.

 

They'd said they'd meet _at some point_ ,  but the World's wasn't the time or the place to sneak around to see your boyfriend, no matter how badly you wanted to.  There were press  conferences, interviews,booking to the hotel and getting to know the venue as well as the _actual goddamn competition_ to think about _._ Yuri hoped they’d still see each other today.

 

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on that he was currently getting ready for the world championships of figure skating, _not_ Otabek. He’d got to get himself together.

 

So, right. Getting to know the venue. Yuri found it extremely important nowadays. He needed to get to the _feeling,_ grasp the right mindset. Soak up the atmosphere, the buzzing and electricity of competing, because the rest of the year when he was training at home, he’d miss that feeling.

 

It was a cliche, but he tried to be less glued to his phone and more present because he wanted to make the most of this time.  

 

Dadushka had always been happy for Yuri for that he got to see new places, and now that he was gone,  Yuri felt responsible and wanted to be more aware, more thankful for his life. Before dadushka had passed away,  Yuri had taken pictures of his trips because the man had been too old and sick to travel anymore.  Then, Yuri had showed him pictures in the hospital, buildings and sceneries and ice halls, his view from the hotel room windows  - everything, anything.

 

It was Otabek’s fault a little, too. Yuri remembered scrolling through Instagram at the age of fifteen,  thinking distractedly _who the hell bothered with scenery pictures_ as his feed showed at least ten same looking pictures of boring buildings and generic streets.  Then he’d seen they were posted by Otabek with captions like _So lucky to be able to see the world_ and such and Yuri slowly realized that maybe he didn’t appreciate this enough. Because even back then, he’d already noticed Otabek’s existence, his quiet demeanor and piercing eyes. His appreciative, boring sunset pictures on Instagram had been _nothing_  you’d expect from someone like him, but then again, Yuri hadn’t known him then. He hadn’t known that despite the leather jackets, the undercuts, the moody sulking, Otabek actually loved nature and was a big softie. A 15-year-old Yuri had grudgingly liked all of those pictures on Instagram back then and started consciously acting like less of a brat, basically.

 

The habit had stuck,  and now Yuri had a memory card full of landscape pictures he didn’t have anyone to show to.

 

Yuri pocketed his phone and pushed Otabek from his mind for now. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity for a first impression of a new city. Well, since it was Tokyo, and he’d been in Japan before, it wasn’t _that_ amazing, but interesting nonetheless. He’d never been in Saitama, though, so that ought to be nice.

 

Yakov was herding his younglings  (everyone was a youngling to Yakov, even Viktor who wasn’t even in competitive skating anymore and was reaching his thirties thirties)  towards a big taxi he’d commandeered, then turned to Yuri.  

 

“Are you _sure_ you don't want to come with us?” He asked,  looking suspicious.

 

“Yes. Viktor and Katsuki promised give me a ride”,  Yuri replied evenly, making eyes at a local Starbucks. He _really_ wanted coffee.

 

“Yes,  I know.  I triple-checked that they're coming.   But _god help me -_ if they're even five minutes late,  you call me and I’ll come and get you”,  the older man replied.  

 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I think I can manage a few minutes by myself.”

 

He didn't have to wait for long,  though. Yakov must have really threatened Viktor to keep his grooming to a minimum before getting here.  

 

Katsuki was adorably (ew) excited about the competitions being held in Japan. It wasn’t like Viktor and him couldn’t afford to travel anywhere where the World’s, but Yuuri seemed to love the practical aspect of it. Why, Yuri couldn’t figure out. Nonetheless, the couple had travelled to Tokyo by train and rented a car. Yuri knew all this because Vikor live-blogged everything on his Instagram like an excited puppy. It was adorable how amazed Viktor was to be doing mundane _couple things_ with Yuuri. Who would’ve thought that that elusive bachelor just needed a pair of brown eyes of a certain Japanese boy to fix on him and he’d be tamed.

 

That rental car - a red, shiny sports car,  obviously Viktor’s choice - was confidently pulling up at the taxi point. Katsuki was in the front seat and he was waving enthusiastically,  signalling to the trunk of the car.  The trunk opened automatically and Yuri maneuvered his luggage (heavy,  so fucking heavy)  inside it before climbing into the back seat.  The car smelled like new leather and good god, Viktor had bought the thing instead of renting it, hadn’t he?

 

“Yuri!  Welcome”,  Katsuki greeted and turned on his seat so that he could see Yuri better.

 

“Thanks”,  Yuri replied and sank into his seat,  glad just to get away from airports and crowds. He wasn’t afraid of flying, he just didn’t prefer it at all. He always felt a little gross and very sleepy after being in a plane for hours.

 

“You’ve got to keep yourself hydrated, Yuri. Can’t let the jetlag get to you”, Viktor tutted as he speeded towards - well, the hotel, hopefully. He glanced at Yuri through the rearview mirror.

 

“I know”, Yuri said and, as if on cue, yawned.

 

“How are you feeling?” Katsuki asked, smiling. Yuri had hated him for retiring last year, but - he looked quite happy now. He wasn’t as pale as he’d been when he’d spent all of his time practicing on ice and he’d gained a bit of roundness to his face. Yuri had to grudgingly admit that the happily ever after -look suited him well.

 

“I’m fine”, Yuri said. He’d felt better, but he was still okay.

 

“Do you want to take a nap before we head out to dinner?”

 

Yuri would have rolled his eyes at the mother hen act, but it actually felt nice that they cared.

 

“No. I think it’s better if I stay up now and have an early night”, he said.

 

He didn’t deny himself a blissful moment of closing his eyes for just a moment. He cherished every moment he could close his eyes and _not_ think about his choreographies for a bit. The problem with skating the same routines for so long and practising them daily for months was that sometimes Yuri could feel himself getting fed up with them even before the competition. He tried to distance himself sometimes. because if he was bored when he skated them, it was visible to everyone.

 

Viktor cleared his throat, causing Yuri to open one of his eyes.

 

“So”, Viktor sing-songed, “when's Otabek flying here? “

 

Yuri gave him an unimpressed look and ignored the surprised thump in his chest.  “And why should I know?”

 

Viktor and Yuuri exchanged a look and Yuri was suddenly fed up with their _‘let's have a conversation with just our eyes because we're so in sync and obviously soulmates’_ shit.

 

Katsuki  gave him an encouraging smile. “You just seemed to be pretty close at New Year’s. We just assumed you talked. ”

 

“Yeah, so?  He's almost my age so he’s okay to talk to.  Better than talking to you two dinosaurs”,  Yuri grumbled defensively, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit.

 

“Oh yes,  strike us where it hurts,  Yuri”,  Viktor said flatly and rolled his eyes.  “We're old, the horror!”

 

“Yeah,  you are.” Yuri pulled his hood over his head,  sunk into the seat and dug out his phone.

 

He gives a quick look to the front seat,  only to see both of the men wearing smiles on their faces. Good, he thought.  He didn't _actually_ want to push them away or piss them off by being a dick. Besides Yakov, he didn't exactly have anyone he considered family with him. But he had Katsuki and Viktor. Even though he was hurt and offended that they’d moved to Japan instead of Russia, but. Whatever.

 

“Um”,  Yuri offered, cleared his throat, then tried again. “His flight is here in four hours.”

 

He averted his gaze to miss the shit-eating grins on both of their faces.  

 

“Will he need a ride to the hotel,  as well?”

 

Yuri’s mind instantly went to thinking about a red sports car and Otabek. Otabek had a driver’s license so he could definitely drive the car. Oh, he’d probably keep his other hand on the wheel and the other leaning against the opened window, wearing his leather jacket. Or _maybe_ he’d have his other hand on the wheel, the other inching up Yuri's thigh and - Oh,  fuck. He really shouldn’t go there.

 

“No”,  Yuri said hastily.  “He would have said if he needed one.”

 

There was blissful silence for a few moments,  before Viktor said, in one quick breath:

 

“It’s crucial that you don’t have penetrative sex with him before the competition.”

 

A stunned silence, during which Yuri and Katsuki both stared at Viktor in horror.

 

“Viktor!” Katsuki yelled at the same time as Yuri screeched, “What the _fuck_ , Viktor!”

 

Viktor lifted his both hands up in surrender (what a trustworthy driver he was). “Sorry, sorry! I just needed to say that, Yuuri, they’re _obviously_ going to do something! And I know from experience that a sore bottom does _not i_ mprove performances.”

 

Yuri hated himself for mentally going through all of both Viktor’s _and_ Yuuri’s not-so-great routines along the years and thinking  whether it had been because of _that._

 

He groaned and buried his head in his hands. “I don’t want to talk about this”, he mumbled, face hot as the fucking sun. He didn’t want to have this discussion. Not with anyone, especially not with Viktor and Katsuki.

 

“Vik, I begged you not to bring that up”, Katsuki moaned and Yuri, through his mortified being, was a little pleased that Katsuki sounded a little humiliated too.

 

“I’m just trying to give advice!” Viktor defended himself, blind to see why they were both this shocked and unwilling to discuss the subject. _Not everyone is so fucking extra as you, Viktor._

 

“Well, don’t!” Yuri grumbled and refused to look up, hands on his cheeks, head resting against his knees.

 

“If you can’t discuss it, you aren’t ready to do it, Yuri”, Viktor insisted.

 

Yuri let out a strange sound. “Just because I don’t feel like talking about it with you doesn’t mean I c _an’t_ discuss it”, he lied. He hadn’t actually brought the subject of penetrative sex up with anyone. Not even Otabek. He hadn’t wanted to say anything via laptops or phones. They _were_ going to talk about it, he just wanted to do it face-to-face. Maybe after spending more time with Otabek.

 

There was an awkward silence, during which Yuri focused on the low rumble of the car engine and watching passing buildings from the window.

 

“Yuri”, Katsuki said, patiently. His voice was lower than usually and Yuri knew he did it intentionally to sound soothing. And damn it, it was working.  “You and him. Are you an item? We’d like to know. _Not_ give you weird advice, but.. Well, he’s very nice, isn’t he?”

 

Yuri was silent for a moment. Him and Otabek had been very see-through at New Year’s, hadn’t they? And before that as well, since Katsuki had played matchmaker, already having caught on the fact that they both had harbored some kind of feelings towards each other.

 

Damn, he should probably thank Katsuki at some point.

 

“He’s my boyfriend”, Yuri admitted shyly, not being able to keep the smile from his face.

 

“There,  I knew -” Viktor started but Katsuki slapped him in the arm that was holding the wheel.  Seriously,  why was he in a car with these idiots?

 

“That’s really awesome, Yuri”, Katsuki said and while a part of Yuri wanted to hate how overly careful and supporting he sounded, he actually couldn’t find the strength to snap at him, because the truth? It _was_ awesome and Yuri was extremely happy and giddy to meet Otabek after _months_ of dreaming about him.

 

“Yeah”, he agreed, too tongue-tied to say anything else. Luckily, Katsuki and Viktor seemed to realise it and they left the inquiries at that.

 

The rest of the day was a little hazy to Yuri. Katsuki and Viktor drove them all straight to the hotel where Viktor dominated their bookings, requesting extra pillows and asking about their room service and the opening hours of the lounge bar. They took Yuri’s things to his room. The room was okay; the view from the window was nice and it headed south, so he thought that sunsets probably looked amazing from it. He glanced at the big, spacious bed and thought ‘ _i might get to sleep with Otabek in this bed’._ The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through him, as well as fondness.

 

After changing his clothes and splashing some water on his face, Yuri took off with Viktor and Katsuki. He hadn’t even asked where they were going to eat; he’d eat anything by now. As they walked to the elevators, Yuri sent Otabek a quick message.

 

<yuri> will have dinner etc with viktor and katsudon, tell me when youre here

 

He paused for a second, looked at his message and, before he could overthink it, added:

 

<yuri> <33333

 

<yuri> my room number is 507 btw

 

 

***

 

They went into a Japanese restaurant. Obviously Viktor and Katsuki ate the kind of foods all the time, but Katsuki seemed to remember Yuri’s fondness for katsudon (and later, when he was visiting them, even sushi even though he had hated raw fish) and had booked the restaurant for them. Yuri appreciated it _a lot._  Katsuki was the best at showing he cared about people with small things like that.

 

Yuri glanced at Katsuki who flashed him a brilliant smile and asked, in hesitant Russian, whether Yuri liked his meal. Yuri replied in Russian (articulating clearly and a little bit slower, which made Viktor smile) that he liked Katsuki’s parents’ better.

 

Yakov called him and talked about logistics - revising their schedule, practise hours and interview times. Yuri struggled to keep up, but hummed and nodded agreeingly anyway. He honestly didn’t know how Yakov always remembered everything; not once had Yuri seen him write anything down.

 

Yakov wanted to speak to Viktor too, so Yuri handed him the phone. From the guilty look on Viktor’s face Yuri deduced that Yakov was giving him a rant about not tiring Yuri and _‘honestly, Vitya, when was the last time you called me?’_. When Viktor’s face softened and he smiled,  Yuri knew that Yakov was asking about Katsuki. Katsuki was a definite soft spot for Yakov, like he was for most people, and he was at least as upset about them moving to Japan as Yuri was.

 

“Da, Yuuri and I are very happy. I don’t know, maybe during the summer? Yes, we’d like that -”

 

Yuri let his mind wander. He felt like he was buzzing on coffee - which he wasn’t, obviously. He was tired, limbs heavy and slow, but his mind was whirring. He always felt a bit overwhelmed when he left his home rink, but this time the added anticipation to see Otabek and the fact that this was the _World’s_ made everything even more harder to keep in check, somehow.

 

After dinner, they headed back to the hotel. Viktor and Katsuki had, miraculously, gotten a room at the same hotel most of the competitors were. Well, maybe being Viktor Nikiforov had some uses. They said they’d even gotten the VIP passes to every competition held. Yuri knew they were especially interested in pair skating at the moment. They weren’t given anything away, but Yuri secretly hoped that they were planning a comeback of some sort. That would be actually pretty amazing to see. Their exhibition skates were always breathtaking to see, if a bit nauseating.

 

Yuri sort of wished Katsuki and Viktor still lived in St. Petersburg. Despite the fact that they had never succeeded in pulling off the coach/skater or rival/rival setting and instead always ended up flirting blatantly in front of everyone, Yuri missed their presence.

 

Dammit.

 

Yuri was grumbling to himself as he was walking towards his hotel room. He was trying to shake off this sentimentalism and was careful not to step into the lines of the carpet when he ran into someone.

 

“Oh, sorry”, Yuri managed to say as his shoulder made contact with someone’s chest. He lifted his gaze from the floor, and his breath got caught in his chest in surprise.

 

_Otabek._

 

It was almost anticlimactic, seeing Otabek right now. Because Yuri had waited for _so long_  and had assumed Otabek would let him know when they were going to meet and Yuri could prepare himself mentally.

 

Otabek looked _good_ . That was always an understatement, but he did.  He was wearing a soft smile and a leather jacket, and wasn’t that just the sweetest combination you could ever think of? He looked exactly the same like he’d looked when they were Skyping just a few days prior, but Yuri drank him in anyway. He was _there_ , standing before Yuri for real.

 

“Hello” was the first thing that crossed Yuri’s mind. Then he blinked twice and threw himself into Otabek’s arms.

 

Otabek’s laugh was delighted, and he took Yuri into his arms.

 

“Did you text me? I didn’t notice”, Yuri mumbled into Otabek’s neck.

 

“No. I literally just arrived. I wanted to check whether you were already back to your hotel room. I’m afraid we still have a few things to go through today, but I just needed to see you first”, Otabek said in that familiar rumble of his. Yuri arched into the words. His voice sounded so much better face to face than through his laptop speaker.

 

“Alright”, Yuri managed to say, feeling thrown off and overwhelmed. But at the same time, Yuri realised that _this_ was what had been missing from his days, why he’d felt so restless and unfocused. He’d wanted Otabek with him.

 

“Hey,  you”,  Otabek murmured quietly and ran his nose up and down Yuri's neck.  Yuri shivered because it had been over _three months_ since they'd done any of this and quite honestly?  He'd forgotten what it was like.  He’d like to live in a world where he remembered exactly what Otabek's touch felt like, what his kisses tasted like and how the proximity of him made Yuri loose and fidgety at the same time.  But this was all so new,  and Yuri only remembered the confusion,  the newness,  the paralyzing nervousness that led to giggling against Otabek's neck because he didn't know how to touch someone else's cock,  and the overwhelming feeling of want.

 

It was all coming back to him,  though. Every second Yuri's body sang _oh, yes_ as familiar feelings surrounded his body.  

 

Otabek kisses his neck,  gently and slowly,  and Yuri gathered the boy in his arms,  pulling him closer.  “ _Goddamnit”,_ he hissed.

 

“Missed me?” Otabek chuckled and ran his fingers up and down Yuri's sides.  

 

“Of course I did, you dick”,  Yuri replied  without heat.

 

Otabek touched his lips on Yuri's jawline,  peppering small kisses along it. “Mmh”,  he hummed,  “good.  I missed you too.”

 

Yuri sighed and turned his head towards Otabek,  seeking his mouth.  Just before accepting the kiss,  Otabek flashed a smile that made dimples on his cheeks visible.  Yuri felt like a pervert for wanting to dip his tongue in them.  

 

Otabek cradled his head and kissed him softly.  Yuri huffed and tried to deepen the kiss,  but Otabek held back,  not giving Yuri access to slip his tongue inside his mouth.

 

Huffing,  Yuri pulled back. “Am I bad kisser?”

 

“What?  No, of course not.”

 

“Then why aren't you kissing me back?”

 

Otabek sucked his lower lip into his mouth and looked at Yuri.  

 

“Because”,  he said matter-of-factly,  “if I do _that_ ,  I might not wanna stop.”

 

“Yes, and?” Yuri asked annoyedly.

 

“ _And_ we're not having sex just before a competition. “

 

Yuri looked skeptical.  “Did your coach forbid you that?”

 

“No!  I just think I’ll perform better if we haven't done… That.” Otabek gestured between them with his hand.

 

Yuri ran his fingers from Otabek's chest to his thigh. Otabek was wearing ripped jeans and the holes in them were just big enough for Yuri to slip his fingers in, to feel Otabek's warm thigh, the heat of his crotch close.  “Yes”, Yuri hummed while petting the place where he saw the beginnings of a tattoo on top of his knee, “a public boner will _definitely_ help you win. “

 

Otabek's nostrils flared and he flushed adorably. “Yuri!”

 

Yuri snorted.  “You do know it’s a complete myth that athletes can’t have sex before competing?”

 

Otabek huffed.  “Yeah…” He said slowly. “Having sex _once_ before a competition does nothing, but do you really think it would stop at that? If I touch you now, I’m not going to stop until we’re physically unable to continue any longer.” He dragged his nose up and down Yuri's neck and throat as if he was breathing in Yuri's scent. His hands were warm and gentle on Yuri's hips, keeping him still.  “And you remember how much t _hat_ is. “

 

Yuri did remember. Waking up in the middle of the night with Otabek's moist, hot breath against his neck, the boy asleep but half-hard against the small of his back. Yuri dragging his ass up and down that hard ridge until Otabek woke up, gasping and leaking, bunching Yuri's t-shirt up and coming in hot splashes against his lower back while jacking Yuri off even though they both were oversensitive and tired because they’d already rubbed against each other three times before going to sleep. _Fuck._

 

“Do you understand me now?” Otabek asked, and the shitface was _smiling_ like an angel.

 

“I- ”, Yuri stated, then tried again. “Yes, okay.”

 

He ran his hands over Otabek's chest and felt the leather there.  He slipped his hands under the jacket, much rather feeling his warm chest and beating heart than the leather.

 

“One more kiss?” He asked,  biting his lip in a way that he knew was one of his best looks.  “I’ll be good”,  he added.

 

“Like fuck you will”,  Otabek said but leaned in anyway,  this time bracketing Yuri between the wall and himself.  He kissed Yuri _good_ this time,  hard and full of intent, his hot tongue pushing against Yuri’s, the warm weight of his body keeping Yuri in place.  

 

It reminded Yuri of their first (and most memorable) time, against that wall in Hasetsu, and he whined,  pulling Otabek closer by the hips. He pushed back and _yes_ ,  the hardening shape of Otabek's cock was clearly visible through their jeans. He rubbed against it, standing on his toes and rolling his hips forward.

 

Otabek groaned and bit down Yuri's lip a little harder than he probably intended,  but somehow that just made everything better.

 

“Yuri, _fuck._ See, this is what I mean”,  he panted and stepped back.

 

Yuri stayed where he was, knowing exactly how good he looked, leaning against the wall with a parted, kissed mouth, hoodie riding up and revealing a small slice of stomach. Their hotel rooms were _right there_ and he just wanted to drag Otabek with him.

 

Otabek ran his fingers through his hair and Yuri took the time to appreciate Otabek’s whole appearance.

 

“You look so fucking good”, Yuri said honestly.

 

“So do you”, Otabek replied and ran his gaze up and down Yuri’s form, lingering on his waist and stomach.

 

Yuri huffed. Otabek was right. If Yuri gave in now, there was no way he could focus on the events of tomorrow. He should be practising and making the most of these final chances to make this his best year in figure skating.

 

“I - I think I should go now?” Otabek said, but his brows lifted up like he was asking a question. He looked a little bit sad too.

 

Yuri gave Otabek a wet kiss on his cheek, not wanting either of them to mope, for god’s sakes. They had all the time in the world after competing.

 

“Yes. You look tired. I want you to do well, so you need to sleep and eat”, Yuri said.

 

“Right back at you, blondie”, Otabek murmured in Yuri’s hair and squeezed him in a hug. “Text me? Let’s go through our schedules and find the time to meet.”

 

Yuri nodded and smiled. While he was fed up with texting and social media and Skype because he wanted them to spend time together for real, he’d feel better about texting when he knew that Otabek was in the same building with him, and that if he’d start feeling, like, super lonely, he could sneak up into his room at 3AM for a hug. Not wise, probably, since things seemed to escalate between them so quickly, but. In theory.

 

“Yeah. Go now - you’re far too sexy for someone who just got off a plane.”

 

Yuri fished his keycard from his pocket and heard Otabek’s laugh behind him before he disappeared into his room.

 

Later, after Yuri had gotten ready for bed and found his pajamas from his suitcase, Yuri got comfortably under the covers and  sent Otabek a link to an article _Sex And Sports: A Better Combo Than You Think!_

 

He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to run over to Otabek’s hotel room as the joy, arousal and longing inside him were making it hard to get sleepy even though he’d been exhausted the entire day. It was okay. Otabek was in the same country, same _building_ even, Yuri reminded himself. He _had_ to focus a few more days and keep himself in check, then he could kiss Otabek as much as he wanted to.

 

Yuri bunched up his pillow under his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lowkey slips in a few hints at Yuri's adorable crush on Yuuri whoops* 
> 
> hello, i'm back at it again with this series! this is going to have two more chapters, maybe let me know what you thought of this so far? <3 
> 
> You can always always come talk to me in tumblr @ [dotingdamen](http://www.dotingdamen.tumblr.com)!


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back! I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to finish this chapter. It actually got so long that I split it in half. This story was supposed to be three chapters, but now it's going to be four! :)

A loud vibrating noise woke Yuri up from his semi-sleep. It didn’t just feel loud because he was tired, it _was_ loud - his phone touched a glass of water on the nightstand, creating a loud tremble when it informed Yuri of an incoming text message.

 

He groaned and squinted his eyes open, hand reaching for the phone. It was Otabek. From old habit, Yuri started counting what the time was in Kazakhstan right now to figure out how early had Otabek woken up, only to remember that they were in the same country. A pleased hum escaped him.

 

Yuri swiped open the message. Otabek had already gotten up, had breakfast and gone practising. Yuri knew that the practising slot for men’s singles started at 6.30am, but he hadn’t expected anyone to go there that early. Yuri wasn’t going to. He was going to have an afternoon practise when the ice rink was reserved for men again from 3pm on. Some skaters used all the extra time they had polishing and going through their performances, but Yuri needed some distance just before the real competition. He got the stamina to do it, of course, but he’d found out the perfect schedule for himself, and waking up before 5 am _wasn’t it._

 

Yuri stretched his hands on top of his head and yawned. He dimmed the screen of his phone and replied to Otabek’s newest message.

 

<Altin.O> On ice soon. Will I see you there?

 

Yuri started writing a reply, then paused. He switched on the table lamp on the night stand and snapped a picture of himself, instead. He aimed the camera deliberately towards his stomach so that only his sleep-mussed hair cascading on his shoulders and t-shirt that had ridden up a bit were visible. Yuri knew his face was puffy and pale first thing in the morning.

 

<Altin.O> Okay, that’s just unfair. Good morning, gorgeous.

 

<yuri.p> good morning

 

<yuri.p> also sorry, no. just woke up. I’ll be there in the afternoon.

 

<Altin.O> I won’t. But do you have the night free? Can we have dinner?

 

A warm feeling tugged at Yuri’s insides at Otabek’s straightforwardness. While he was pretty sure that they weren’t ever going to get as mushy and touchy-feely as some couples, he liked how direct Otabek was with Yuri; Yuri didn’t think he could handle if he had to double-guess Otabek’s feelings. And it felt nice to be wanted back. It was _unreal_ how much Otabek took up space in Yuri’s mind and how much of his mood was directly connected to whether or not he’d been talking to Otabek.

 

Yuri stretched while he climbed out of bed, straightening his every limb. He wasn’t sure how the day was going to go, to be honest. But he had to eat at some point, right? Viktor and Katsuki would probably want to have dinner again. They hadn’t made any plans yet but Katsuki had mentioned a few other restaurants he happened to know and wanted to show both Viktor and Yuri. And while Yuri missed Otabek, he would feel bad about bailing on Viktor and Katsuki.

 

<yuri.p> would it bother you if there were other ppl as well?

 

<Altin.O> No, of course not. Who?

 

<yuri.p> just viktor and katsuki

 

<Altin.O> That’s fine. Do they know that we’re dating?

 

Yuri cringed and decided not to tell Otabek about Viktor’s embarrassing relationship advice.

 

<yuri.p> yeah. they were asking abt you so i told them. is that okay?

 

<Altin.O> It’s fine. 

 

<yuri.p> good. i have to get up, good luck practising

 

Yuri shoved his phone to his back pocket with force, trying to force down his nervousness as well.

 

He went down to the hotel restaurant to have breakfast with Yakov, Viktor and Katsuki. It got a bit longer than intended because there were a lot of familiar skaters who wanted to come and say hi (mostly to the Katsuki-Nikiforovs, but whatever). Christophe Giacometti, who _still_ skated despite being pretty old and who insisted that this was going to be his last year, like always. It got uncomfortable for Yuri because he had to sit there and pretend to eat while Christophe blatantly flirted with _Viktor’s husband_ right in front of Viktor with a hip resting onto the table, his crotch uncomfortably close to Katsuki’s face. That wasn’t the end of it  - Katsuki didn’t even break eye-contact with Chris when he popped a piece of fruit in his mouth, tongue catching the excess drops that dribbled down his fingers. Yuri didn’t know who whimpered louder, Viktor or Chris. Yuri forced himself to think about his programs, because he _really_ didn't want to imagine what Chris Giagometti was up to with Viktor and Katsuki. Yakov had the morning paper lifted in front of his face, not giving them any attention. He’d coached Viktor long before Yuri - maybe he just knew that it was best to turn your gaze away from whatever Viktor was doing.

JJ came around too. He was, characteristically, chirpy and bubbly and a part of Yuri wanted to snap at him for _anything_ he could come up with, but he just couldn’t this time. JJ was showing his wife, Isabella, around with stars in his eyes. He was rubbing her stomach and  told that they were expecting twins. Hell, he was glowing more than Isabella who had that pregnant-woman glow in her.

 

After breakfast, Yuri practised on dry land. Well, he mostly stretched his limbs while watching trash telly on his phone, but still. Afternoon, Viktor insisted that he come around too when it was Yuri’s turn to practise on ice. Katsuki said that he was going to do some shopping around, and with a kiss to Viktor’s cheek, disappeared. Viktor’s presence was a bit annoying but still very nostalgic and Yuri liked it. For once, Viktor shut up about the mistakes he found in Yuri’s program (and Yuri was _sure_ that he did find them) and just gave a few comments here and there, as did Yakov. Yuri wanted his coaches to push him, but he also knew that if they pushed him too far right before the competition, he’d surely fall off the cliff. This was all about Yuri’s mental preparation than anything else. If he had to make changes or actually _practise_ at this point, he hadn't been preparing very well.

 

Yuri managed to keep his pining for Otabek to a minimum since he knew that Otabek wouldn’t be at the rink at this time. It was probably good that they’d accidentally had different schedules for the day. Yuri always loved to see Otabek skate, especially when he was practicing - Otabek tended to wear tight leggings and a t-shirt to the rink most times with some fingerless gloves, and _that_ was a sight Yuri enjoyed seeing. He felt a little unprofessional already as it was - he didn’t need to add fuel to the fire by drooling after Otabek’s skating.

 

With shaky legs and sweat clinging to his back, Yuri finally took off his skates and put on his jumper even though he felt hot and gross. He couldn't afford getting ill at this point. 

 

“We’re going to dinner tonight, correct?” Yuri asked Viktor, who was leaning against the railing of the rink.

 

“If you’re still up for it”, Viktor nodded. “Yuuri was thinking that we could meet at 7.”

 

“Of course I am”, Yuri huffed. “It’s just uh - Viktor?”  Yuri fidgeted with his phone in his hand and saw that he had a few messages from Otabek.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Would it be okay - well, it’s just, I haven’t seen Otabek in a long time, so could he join us?”

 

Yuri didn’t know what he expected - that Viktor, his friend and ex teammate who just happened to be quite a lot older than him, would ban him from seeing his boyfriend? But he found himself sighing in relief anyway when Viktor’s face lit up in a smile.

 

“Of course, Yurio”, Viktor said.

 

Yuri smiled. “Don’t call me that. See you at 7.”  

 

**

 

Yuri did his best not to fuss with his clothes. He tried to act nonchalant, knocking his hips to one side and running his fingers through his hair in front of the mirror. But the truth was that his luggage consisted of skating equipment and outfits, leggings and hoodies, two power banks and two different chargers and more leggings and hoodies. The only nicer clothes he had was the outfit he’d decided to wear for the Gala afterwards. He hadn’t bothered with jeans or anything - leggings were comfortable to wear and easy to roll up and pack.

 

Yuri turned around and looked at himself from every angle. He already knew they weren’t going to eat in any place super fancy so he didn’t need to worry about breaking a dress code.

 

Yuri flipped his hair, gathered it in a bun on top of his head, then let it fall back onto his shoulders. He wanted to look nice for Otabek. They’d barely ever seen each other in anything else than practise gear and performance outfits. Yuri longingly thought about his wardrobe at home, his perfect, a bit too tight pair of jeans, faded and worn out on the thighs and knees, and a long-sleeved burgundy shirt that went perfectly with it.

 

With a shrug towards his own reflection, Yuri grabbed his room key, phone and wallet before leaving.

 

Katsuki and Viktor were already chatting in the lobby with Otabek when Yuri arrived. They were all smiling (Viktor and Yuuri wide and unreserved, Otabek with a hint of shyness in him) and talking about something that looked like easy small talk.

 

It was surreal. Because, for a second, Yuri had forgotten that these people actually existed in his life, not just in his computer screen, in different timezones.

 

Yuri snapped out of his trance when Otabek’s gaze wandered around the room, landing on Yuri. A smile spread to his face - a bigger, more genuine smile. It made Katsuki and Viktor follow the object of his gaze.

 

Yuri blushed and walked to the group, waving awkwardly. He didn’t exactly know what to do. He wasn’t used to greeting Otabek in anyone’s company so he didn’t know whether he should hug him or kiss him or ignore him. Yuri paused. Hell, he wasn’t used to greeting Otabek in person, _period._

 

Yuri settled for nodding to Otabek, which made Katsuki bite his lip and smile knowingly.

 

“I made a reservation to a restaurant nearby. It’s walking distance”, Katsuki said when they walked out of the lobby, to the chilly streets of Saitama.

 

“You look nice”, Otabek rushingly murmured into Yuri’s ear as they walked. Otabek’s gloved hand found Yuri’s, and Yuri felt his face heat up. He glanced to his side; Otabek was wearing his leather jacket and jeans, again. It was a look that never failed on him.

 

“So do you”, he replied.

 

Twenty minutes and a glass or orange juice later Yuri found his nervousness leaving him, little by little. The restaurant Katsuki had brought them was a tapas-style restaurant. He explained that the menu here was the most flexible one from the ones he’d found - for example, you could order a ‘do it yourself’ burrito with all the ingredients on the table, you just had to assemble it.

 

“Plus, I called them before and asked a few things - they can also make every protein non-fat and change your carbs to something else, like steamed vegetables”, he said, cheeks flushing a little as he glanced at both Otabek and Yuri. “I don’t know what kind of diet you’re following, but I do know that eating out in a restaurant is not in the recommendation list of things to do the night before a big competition.”

 

“That’s really thoughtful - and correct. My coach would kill me if he found out where I was right now”, Otabek joked, then hmm’d and looked at Yuri on his side. “But Yakov knows where you are, right?”

 

Yuri gave an amused smile to Otabek. “We wouldn’t dare going behind Yakov’s back like this.”

 

‘We’ meaning, of course, Viktor and Katsuki too. Viktor shook his head rapidly, eyes wide as saucers. “No, definitely not. That man practically raised me - he has a sixth sense for these kind of things, I swear.”

 

Yuri ordered himself a chicken fajita without the soft taco and some extra avocado on the side. Otabek had salmon and steamed broccoli. Viktor and Yuuri shared a big plate of cheesy nachos and Yuri kind of wanted to kick both of them for it.

 

Unsurprisingly, the conversation turned to figure skating. They carefully avoided tomorrow, but talked about everything else. Otabek was amazing at trivia knowledge - he won over Viktor’s heart the second he remembered Viktor’s score from his 2007 Grand prix free skate. Yuri’d never been very talkative in crowds so it felt natural for him to just listen to the conversation while focusing on eating. It was delightful to listen to Otabek and Katsuki talk in English (they had to, since Katsuki still wasn’t very good at Russian). Katsuki had trained in Detroit, Otabek in Canada. And together, they fed each other’s accents, both their pronunciations becoming more heavy, more fluent with lots of slang words and phrases thrown around. 

 

Yuri had been a little afraid that Viktor was going to start talking about Otabek and his and Yuri's relationship, because let's face it - sometimes Viktor acted like a concerned parent. But either Katsuki had talked to Viktor just before the dinner or Viktor had realised himself that this wasn't the time to talk about the subject. Katsuki _did_ give Yuri a bright, warm smile when he saw Otabek putting his hand on Yuri's knee while talking to Viktor as if to say, "I'm paying attention to you even though I'm talking to someone else", but aside from that neither of them gave Yuri any indication that anything had changed. 

 

After dinner, when they were all putting on their jackets, Katsuki said “If it’s okay, Viktor and I will go for drinks somewhere. You’re probably going straight to the hotel?” He knew full well that neither Otabek nor Yuri could join them. No drinking or staying out late during competitions.

 

“Yeah, we are. You guys go”, Yuri said. He tried not to sound too excited about getting to walk back to the hotel with Otabek alone, even if it was just for five minutes.

 

Katsuki smiled and grabbed Viktor’s forearm. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

 

Otabek turned to Yuri. The buildings around them gave light to the chilly evening, but it was still pretty dark. Yuri watched Otabek’s features, the black mess of his hair, his eyes, his clothes. He decided that Otabek fit in this kind of environment perfectly. In the urban air where engines roared and the city of the pulse was closer than ever. It almost felt as if he couldn’t belong here, beside Yuri like this. But then Otabek smiled, that big smile that made his dimples prominent and his nose scrunch up, and Yuri’s feeling passed.

 

“That was fun”, Otabek said. He took half a step back and knocked his head towards the hotel to indicate that they could start heading back to the hotel.  

 

“Yeah, it was. Well, minus the part where you and Katsuki started talking about hockey -”

 

Otabek laughed, knowing that Yuri didn't particularly care for the sport.

 

“ - but otherwise it was nice”, he finished with a smirk. He wanted to take Otabek’s hand but didn’t want to cause a fuss just before the competition. He knew there were paparazzis here and there. It seemed to be an unspoken rule that they didn’t kiss or hold hands in public yet. Being together publicly didn’t bother Yuri and he suspected that Otabek was fine with it too, but they didn’t need a scandal around them right now. It was enough pressure to deal with the actual competition. It just wasn’t a good idea just yet.

 

 The distance from the restaurant to the elevators of the lobby was too short, the time it took them to walk too short.

 

They stepped into the elevator, Otabek pressing number four, Yuri five. Yuri’s fingertips tingled and he craved to touch Otabek, to feel his warmth. He knew he’d feel himself electrified if he touched Otabek now, if Otabek took him in his arms. The elevator stopped, and Otabek turned to him, expectantly. Yuri had a flashback of them kissing and touching each other in the hallway and decided to make this easier for the both of them. He hesitated for a few seconds, then kissed Otabek on the cheek. That was slowly becoming a habit, and Yuri decided that he liked doing it. He liked how soft and warm the boy always felt under his lips, how he could subtly take in his smell, the way Otabek blushed under such soft affections.

 

“Rest well so that I can kick your butt tomorrow and not feel bad about it”, Yuri said, which made Otabek laugh.

 

“Yes, sir”, he replied easily with a two-finger salute before disappearing behind the closing elevator doors.

 

******

 

Yuri woke up the next morning feeling focused and ready for the day. He almost sighed in relief, because he’d felt off for _days_. He was his goal-driven, motivated self again, and it felt good.

 

Today, there wasn’t anything else to be done than to prepare. He did his best to eat and stretch and do whatever he’d normally do before practise, letting his body think that today was just another day to do the best he could. Just because there would be thousands of people seeing him do it didn’t change it.

 

Yuri has always tried not to think about his competitors very much, but he couldn’t _just completely ignore_ them when he arrived to the ice hall since they shared the same space, the same ice. He saw their faces and his mind, helpfully, supplied a glimpse of their performance Yuri’d watched on Youtube, or their latest score, or something they’d said in an interview.

 

Viktor and Katsuki had visited him, briefly, telling him good luck before going back to their seats. They could have easily stayed in the competitors’ area without anyone even blinking an eye, but they said that they had really good seats.

 

Yakov gave him last minute tips. It rarely stressed Yuri out, because his advice was always _“just remember the extend your wrists when you move your hands and you have nothing else to worry about”_. He most certainly _did_ , but Yakov always made it sound like he didn’t. He did that entirely on purpose, and Yuri appreciated it. 

 

The buzzing around the ice rink got louder by the second. Yuri decided to take a trip to the bathroom before it was too late. It felt good to walk a little further away from the rink, hear the voices and sounds getting smaller. Yuri enjoyed the atmosphere, don’t get him wrong. It was just really intense, sometimes.

 

That’s when he saw Otabek in the hallway. Yuri blinked and realised that he hadn't probably even remembered to text him good morning. 

 

“Hey, Yuri”, Otabek said as he reached the blond. He was wearing his a hoodie, but Yuri saw that he, too, already had his costume on underneath. “I just came to wish you good luck."

 

Yuri couldn’t stop a smile from spreading to his face. “Thank you.”

 

“I didn’t want to bother you too much just before all of this, though.”, the kazakh continued. He sounded as calm as ever, but the shuffling of his feet told Yuri that he was nervous.

 

“It’s fine, Beka. You okay?”

 

Otabek stepped closer after glancing around the hallway, making sure they were alone.

 

“Look”,  the boy said and lifted his hands to fiddle with the strings in Yuri’s performance costume. He kept glancing at Yuri’s eyes but didn’t hold his gaze very long.   “After the Worlds… I was thinking that you could come to Kazakhstan with me.” 

 

A surprised thump banged against Yuri's ribcage.

 

“Oh?” He managed to ask. He’d thought about this - the continuation of their relationship after the Worlds. They hadn’t really talked about how they would handle all the long-distance stuff. Yuri and Otabek had both been in that “let’s just get to the Worlds first” mindspace the whole time.

 

“Yeah.  I mean -  I was considering about renting a summer house somewhere outside of Almaty.   You could come with me.  I’d take you to places with my motorbike. And you could -  you know” - Otabek shrugged a shoulder, still avoiding making direct eye-contact with Yuri - “stay a little longer.”

 

Yuri’s breath hitched and he froze. He didn’t know how to react. He felt warmth flooding into every last bit of him, his brain trying to come up with a sentence.

 

“Uh-”, he managed to voice out, probably sounding just as out of it as he felt.

 

“I just felt like I wanted to tell you this now, not later. But you don't have to decide right away. And only if you want to”, Otabek hastened to say when Yuri didn’t reply immediately. 

 

“No! I mean - I do! I’d love to come, yes”,  Yuri babbled and thought, _‘i'm so fucked’._ The idea of spending the summer with Otabek felt a little too good to be true. He could actually wake up next to the boy, do dumb stuff like watch movies together, skate together, train together.

 

Go to sleep together.

 

He was so gone for the boy, wasn’t he?

 

Otabek's smile was a relieved one. 

 

 “Good luck out there, Yura”, he murmured and moved, starting to leave. Yuri grabbed his forearm. 

 

“Look, I -” Yuri said and pulled Otabek with him, behind a big pillar that was rather conveniently placed. It was going to hide them from everyone’s view and right now, the hallway was empty. Otabek looked confused, but Yuri shut him up by kissing him. 

 

The kiss was probably sweetest they’d had - right now, just before the competition, nor Yuri or Otabek were interested in getting it on. It was just a warm, long kiss with their noses rubbing and lips exploring. Otabek’s tongue touched Yuri’s lower lip once, carefully, before retreating.

 

Yuri blushed when they pulled apart. Hell, they’d basically dry humped in public just a few days ago, and yet Yuri felt more emotionally unstable now than he did then. From a simple _kiss_.

 

Flustered, Yuri stepped back  and they disentangled from each other’s embrace.

 

“I gotta go lace up”, Otabek said. He had a blush rising on his cheeks as well.

 

“And I gotta go win gold”, Yuri smirked.

 

**

 

Yuri’s mind is clear and focused when he made his way to the middle of the rink. It was quiet, the audience respecting his space and waiting patiently for the music to start.

 

Yuri lifted his gaze from his legs. He saw Otabek standing at the side of the rink. Well, there were a lot of other people too, but Otabek was the only one Yuri noticed. The kazakh smiled encouragingly. Yuri could see his dimples, could almost count the lines on top of his nose as he smiled like that.

 

Yuri took a deep breath, not breaking Otabek’s gaze.

 

His last thought before the music began was,

 

_“I think I love him.”_

 

**

Yuri fucked up.

 

He. Fucked. _Up._

 

He buried his face in his hands. It had been quiet when he ended his program, and the cacophony of the noises and voices around him was returning to him like someone had taken plugs off his ears. He took a few loose strands from his sweaty forehead and rubbed at his face. It felt itchy and thin, and Yuri didn’t have to find a mirror to know that it was already red and blotchy.

 

He had stumbled. He didn’t want to analyze how bad it was, but he just knew that it was bad enough. Bad enough for him to miss gold until a fucking miracle happened. Bad enough that he could safely say that everything he’d worked for had just gone down the fucking drain.

 

Yakov was quiet beside him, which told _a lot_. He reprimanded Yuri of his mistakes often, but Yuri knew that if he was dead quiet beside him, he’d done a poor job. And if Yuri had fucked up splendidly enough, Yakov knew that Yuri knew that himself, which meant that Yuri’s fears about the state of his performance were dead-on correct.

 

The _stupidest_ thing was that he’d been confident about his performance. It was a good one, and despite the problems he’d had earlier this year about it, he’d perfected it. He’d fucking perfected it and he’d gone through it over and over and _over_ again. There was no way he should have made a mistake like that, stumble after a simple triple axel. He’d been so surprised by his mistake that he sort of lost his footing after that too - well, _emotional_ footing. But Yuri was sure that the judges had noticed that. _Fuck this._ He wasn’t supposed to be one of those skaters who couldn’t get their shit together after making a mistake. He was better than that.

 

Or at least, he’d thought he was.

 

Yuri let out a deep sigh. With shaky hands, he unlaced himself and stuffed his toes in his shoes. He heard the score, and it wasn’t great. He’d get to the final without a problem, but there was no way he’d win now.

 

Nicely done, Plisetsky.

 

Yuri denied all interviews requests even though it made him look like a sore loser and didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he made his way towards the dressing  rooms, avoiding all contact.

 

He was disappointed and angry and in disbelief that he’d let himself slip like this.

 

Because of a _boy._

 

Just like he’d feared right from the beginning. He’d felt the unstoppable force between him and Otabek, the kind of wavelength he hadn’t found with anyone else. And he’d known it had potential to take over his life.

 

There was not a single person on the face of the earth as _stupid_ as Yuri.

 

Someone almost runs into Yuri, and Yuri is about to snarl to them and tell them to _watch where they’re walking_ before realising it’s Otabek.

 

Every hair in his body stood up in a weird, cold rage, and Yuri realised that Otabek _really_ shouldn’t be standing in front of Yuri right now. Otabek was watching him the way he did whenever he was reading Yuri. The look consisted of compassion, understanding pity and fondness.  And right now,  Yuri _hated_ the look. If Otabek was watching him like that, Yuri fucking _knew_ that it was bad.

 

Yuri knew he should take a breath, say that he needed to be alone, walk away. But the frustration and anger inside him hurt him like he’d swallowed something hot.

 

“It was your fault”, he said instead, the stone in his stomach making his voice sound choked and weary.

 

Otabek’s opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. “I - What?”

 

Yuri huffed. He was so angry that he let this happen to himself. That he let his feelings get a hold of him. That he fucked up because of a boy, just because the said boy smiled at him. He was such a fucking idiot.

 

“Did you do that on purpose?” Yuri asked. He knew he wasn’t being at all fair, but he couldn’t stop himself. He felt like he was going to explode if he had to keep anything in right now. He just wanted to lash out to someone, anyone.

 

“Do _what_ on purpose?” Otabek asked. His brows were knitted together in utter confusion.

 

Yuri gestured with his hand. “That - thing! Just before I had to skate! _God_ . You fucking know I need space just before going on ice, _you know it_. And still you came around and I lost focus because of it. There is no _way_ I’m going to fucking win now! You did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to make sure that you’re going to win gold by distracting me!”

 

Silence.

 

Yuri had never seen Otabek angry. He’d seen the boy upset after failed competitions and frustrated when something wasn’t going according to his plans. But he’s never seen Otabek _angry_. Yuri couldn’t imagine Otabek yelling or losing his composure even when angry - he’d expected that Otabek would be someone who was quiet and measured even when they were cross with someone.

 

But he still straightened his back in fear when he saw the look on Otabek’s face go from confused to _furious_ as he processed Yuri’s words. The frown on his face straightened and his chin lifted up. His eyes weren’t at all expressive like Yuri had gotten used to seeing them. Instead they were cold and unforgiving. Yuri wanted to blurt out _“no, wait”_ even before Otabek opened his mouth. He knew he’d gone too far and he wanted take his words back.

 

“Fuck you, Yuri.”

 

And with that, Otabek turned his back on Yuri and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY  asdsf
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you thought! I really struggled with this chapter for a LONG time and I'm still not very pleased with it. Feel free to point out any mistakes, too, because English is not my first language, it's 2am and this is unbetaed. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! <3


	3. chapter 3

Yuri spent the rest of the day in a confusing haze where everything was too loud and yet hard to grasp. He knew he had to clear his head and focus onto the rest of the competition, but he couldn’t get his mind to listen. He’s always been very emotional; that made him a fucking fantastic skater, but it was also his biggest weakness because if something distressing happened, he couldn’t let it go.

 

Yakov talked to him. Viktor talked to him. Mila talked to him. Katsuki was quiet but his eyes were sympathetic and he tried to convey all kinds of feelings to Yuri through his eyes (Yuri didn’t appreciate the understanding, sad puppy eyes, but at least he was silent, unlike everyone else). Really, it was one big mess. They all noticed that he was _off_. Yuri didn’t have a car or a driver’s license yet, but he knew what happened when you tried to drive a car with the first gear in; you were running on overdrive, engines hot and roaring, and yet going nowhere. It was frustrating.

 

Yuri was still angry and disappointed. The anger he’d felt after he’d stepped out from the ice was gone. He wasn’t feeling like there were lightning bolts inside him anymore; he’d reduced to a simmering, hot ash that tickled his throat and made his eyes water. It was far worse than feeling uncontrollable rage.

 

Whatever he did, he couldn’t stop thinking about Otabek. Yuri’s anxiety over the boy was far higher than his disappointment about the competition, at the end of the day. It was almost like being back to pining after him; Yuri checked his phone all the time to see whether Otabek had posted something on Instagram, Twitter, Snaphat, Facebook, sent a message, a picture, _anything_. Yuri’s fingers hovered above his name, desperately wanting to talk to him but having no idea what to say.

 

Well. Actually, Yuri knew exactly what to say. He needed to apologise. Why was it so hard, then? He felt like he could easily swallow his pride and just _do it_ \- that didn’t seem to be the problem; he’d do just about anything to fix this. It was something else. It was everything that came after apologising, providing that Otabek forgave him. (Yuri didn’t, _couldn’t_  think about what would happen to him if Otabek decided not to.)

 

_'I was thinking that you could come to Kazakhstan with me .'_

  


Yuri huffed and twisted in his sheets he'd buried himself under. He’d decided that the best possible decision for him was to forget this day existed and sleep. He was just too keyed up to do that, apparently.

 

Yuri was almost positive that he wanted to spend the summer with Otabek. But a small, anxious part of him disagreed. What if he was accidentally leading Otabek on? What if being in Otabek’s company for the whole summer would start annoying him, and he’d end up being horrible to the boy? What if they ended up fighting all the time?

 

Because in all, actual honesty? They hadn’t spent time together _at all_. They’d seen each other in competitions over the years, they’d trained together for three weeks when they were kids and now they were dating.

 

Yuri tried his best not to think about his own, startling reaction to Otabek just before he’d started his program. It was too much, too soon. He shouldn’t have these kind of feelings if he couldn’t handle them without freaking out.

 

Instead, Yuri reached for his phone. His finger hovered over Viktor's name for a moment before scrolling back up.

 

He hesitated for a moment before pressing the call button. He needed this.

 

“Can we talk?”

 

* * *

 

  


7 Minutes later Yuri was bouncing on his feet to relieve the anxious energy rolling in his stomach. He’d dressed in a thick coat, a hat and everything. He still had to compete and he didn’t want to get sick a day before the grande finale. But waiting inside with full outdoor gear was making him sweat. The man behind the reception desk kept giving him concerned looks and Yuri almost wanted to say “fuck you, I’m over 18” to him. 

 

4 Minutes after that, Katsuki appeared from the elevators wearing a coat (a much thicker one than Yuri’s - he’d never gotten used to cold, unlike Yuri who’s spent his entire life in Russia) and boots. He looked flushed and out of breath.

 

“Hello, Yuri", Katsuki said as he reached the boy. It was late, _far_ too late for him to be asking anyone to come help him in a relationship crisis. And yet, here he was, smiling at Yuri with those warm, brown eyes. Yuri felt himself heat up and cheeks flush in irrational, phantom-stab of  longing, followed by irritation towards the fact that Katsuki and Viktor were living in Hasetsu now, not St. Petersburg like Yuri.

 

Katsuki huffed. “There are so many things going on on your face, Yuri," he pointed out good-heartedly. Yuri tamped down the impulse to rub his hands over his face until he got a hold of his treacherous facial features again.

 

“I’m sorry for interrupting your evening," he said instead.

 

“That’s alright. Wanna go for a walk?” Katsuki asked, leading Yuri out. It was cold, really cold. Yuri could handle cold weather, but he _hated_ when the air was moist, droplets of water hitting his face even though it didn’t even rain properly.

 

Yuri had no idea of their whereabouts but Katsuki seemed to have some sense of direction. At least he could read the street signs unlike Yuri. Yuri followed him, wordlessly.

 

He didn’t know where to start. _He’d_ asked Katsuki out, called him stupid o’clock with teary eyes to come talk to him, to help him. Well - he hadn’t said that in those exact words, but Yuri knew that Katsuki picked up more from what was said between the lines, the importance of what was not said.

 

“I’m sorry,"  Yuri said again, awkward. He was burying his chin in his scarf to get away from the cold.

 

“You said that already, and it’s alright, I promise.”

 

“Viktor won’t mind?”

 

“We all care about you, Yuri. Of course he won’t mind.”

 

“I wasn’t interrupting anything important?”

 

Katsuki glanced at him, amused, then winked. “I’ll make it up to him.”

 

Yuri let out a weak huff of amusement. “I can’t believe you’re still that…," he searched for a proper word without embarrassing them both, “eager. You’ve been married for years.”

 

“What can I say? There’s just something about hotel rooms,” Katsuki sing-songed and Yuri knew he was being teased. It made his chest feel a little lighter, some of the stones in his stomach disappearing.

“Speaking of sexy boyfriends waiting in hotel rooms," Katsuki chirped, “how’s yours?”

 

Yuri didn’t know whether Katsuki magically knew that he and Otabek were fighting or was he just doing small talk to loosen Yuri up. It didn’t work. Yuri felt his face eyes getting heavier, chest tighter, and he knew he was on the verge of tears.

 

He took a deep breath, then let it out in one, shuddery rush.

 

Katsuki cleared his throat, then said, softer: “I know you’re not supposed to drink coffee, but I know there’s a coffee shop around the corner that serves tea too.” 

 

Yuri managed a small nod and stuffed his hands to his pockets.

 

Katsuki ordered drinks for both of them. For himself, just regular filter coffee black, and for Yuri green tea with chamomile, flavoured with honey. Yuri liked the comfort of the warm cup in his palms more than the tea itself, but he inhaled the sweet, clean scent in anyway. Instead of staying at the cafe, Katsuki herded Yuri out again, saying that fresh air did wonders to the brain when it was faced with a problem. Yuri wanted to ask how many times has Katsuki walked around the city aimlessly, trying to make sense of his life, but stayed quiet.

 

There was silence. It was a little uncomfortable, but...Yuri still felt relatively comfortable in Katsuki’s presence. Katsuki never fussed when it came to this sort of stuff.

 

Once Yuri felt like he could open his mouth without bursting into tears, he said the first thing that came to his head: “Did Viktor really buy that car you picked me up with?”

 

Katsuki was silent for a while, then went a little red. “It _was_ rented. But then - well, we only rented it to come here, and we don’t exactly know when we’re gonna return home, so we only reserved it for three days. But did you know that those rental cars have a camera attached to the mirror? -”

 

“Oh, god,"  Yuri moaned when as realised where the story was headed.

 

Katsuki laughed. “Yeah, me neither. So, a few hours after Viktor returned it, we got a call that we either have to take it to the cleaner or buy the damn thing. I wanted to stop Viktor, but, well, it’s a nice car, isn’t it? And since we’re already christened it-”

 

Yuri buried his head in his hands as best he could while holding a steaming mug of tea. “You’re so gross," he hissed, face flaming.

 

Katsuki just laughed.

 

“Seriously, how are you still like that? You’ve been married, what, three years now? How is that possible?” Yuri asked.

 

“We laugh together a lot - it makes everything easier. And, well, we love each other," Katsuki admitted shyly. Yuri had a small glimpse of memory of Katsuki years ago, crying alone in the bathroom, looking pale and defeated and so lonely. He wanted to go back in time and show that Yuuri Katsuki this moment and say _“look, look! You’re going to be so happy, I promise”_. He _also_ remembered Viktor. Not this Viktor - Viktor Nikiforov, the gold medalist, the enigma, the unreachable ghost of a man. The man whose smile had dropped the second no-one was looking at him, the man who'd perfected his quads until 2am the rink, to the point where his legs had been bleeding, even though he'd been tired and grey, flat and uninterested.

 

“You seem really happy together," Yuri mumbled.

 

“We’re lucky to have good chemistry," Katsuki agreed. “Just like you and Otabek.”

 

Yuri smiled hesitantly. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. I don’t want to play matchmaker here -”

 

“I think you kinda do.”

 

Katsuki huffed. “ - But I thought about you two when you started being friends. You would have had a great chemistry as just friends, too - but I’m glad you’ve found each other like this.”

 

Yuri’s heart filled with pride, followed by sadness and guilt. Katsuki saw his face fall.

 

“Yuri, was it is? Did something happen?”

 

“We had a fight.”

 

Yuuri nodded, like he’d expected exactly that. Probably had.

 

Yuri took a long swig of his tea just to buy himself more time and to moisten his dry throat. So much sugar, god, Yakov was going to kill him.

 

“He said something to me right before my skate and I just... Lost my footing," Yuri said lamely, shrugging a shoulder, thinking that it might have been a bad idea to try to come and talk about anything. God, he was so _shit_ at talking.

 

Katsuki’s gaze hardened and his usually calm eyes flashed with storm. Suddenly he looked so _fucking_ terrifying that a part of Yuri instinctively straightened his posture, alert and frightened, even though he knew that look wasn’t aimed at him.

 

 _“What did he say to you?”_ Katsuki asked, gravely and slowly. Goddamn, that was scary. Yuri really felt bad for Viktor if he ever had to face that look.

 

“No, it’s not like that!” Yuri hastened to say. “Otabek was nice to me! I mean," he said and took a deep breath. “He asked me to come to Kazakhstan with him, okay? And I got glad. Really glad. And then he gave me this big, encouraging _smile_ just before I skated and I thought that holy shit, he’s really awesome? I’ve never had a friend like that or a boyfriend and I thought that, well, I, that I might, possibly  -” Yuri paused and swallowed. He didn’t know how to articulate this without sounding like a total dumbass. “Well, you know? And then I got angry and blamed him for my failure," he said, embarrassed, in a big rush. He breathed out along with the bitter taste in the back of his throat, ran his hand along his face.

 

“Fuck, I’m an asshole, aren’t I?”

 

Katsuki was quiet for a while, simply looking at Yuri from behind his glasses. It made him nervous, and Yuri focused on gulping down his tea to have something to do. 

 

“He's your first love, isn’t he,“ Katsuki said slowly.

 

Yuri spluttered.  “L-love?  No, we haven’t talked - we haven't even had sex -   _real_ sex -  I don't know if it’s - we _just_ started dating, and - “

 

“So?  I knew I loved Viktor long before we had sex,” Yuuri replied with a shrug of his shoulder,  easy and relaxed like it was easy to just _love_ someone.

 

“We're… We're not like you two,"  Yuri tried feebly. “We don't communicate very well,  I think. I mean… “

 

Yuri paused.

 

“You think we communicated well with Viktor in the beginning? Hell no. Viktor had to reach out _so many times_  before I started opening up to him. It was difficult and it still is if I’m not trying hard enough, but it’s worth it. I swear, Yuri. “

 

Yuri bit his tongue. “I think I hurt him," he admitted quietly.  

 

Katsuki looked at him.  He didn't judge, he didn’t take sides. This is why Yuri liked Katsuki. While he was sometimes hard to read, he was easy to talk to,  because he always took you seriously. 

 

“Should you maybe talk to him about it? “

 

“He might not wanna talk to me”,  Yuri replied, fighting back tears of frustration.

 

“He's just probably ashamed,  Yuri.  He wanted to do something romantic and it backfired.”

 

Yuri hummed.  “I _did_ say it was his fault  that I scored so low. Because of what he said.”  It wasn’t even true, Yuri reminded himself. It was what had come after that. Otabek’s words had simply been a catalyst to Yuri’s own, emotional rollercoaster. But well, try explaining that to Past Yuri.

 

“And how do you think he feels about that?”

 

“Not good?”

 

“Not good," Katsuki agreed.

 

Yuri chewed on his lip. “Do you think he’ll want to talk?”

 

The brunette nodded. “He’s stubborn and temperamental, like you, but as far as I know, he’s never unfair. He’ll listen.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yuri, the way he was looking at you  whenever you talked when we were having dinner…" Katsuki said and gave a low whistle, making Yuri’s ears feel hot. “I don’t think he’s ready to give you up after one fight.”

 

Yuri blushed and dropped his gaze.

 

“What should I say, then?”

 

“I’m not going to put words in your mouth, Yuri, but you need to be honest with him. He appreciates that. I think, right now, he’s just as scared as you. Angry too, probably." 

 

“Do you think I should talk to him before the free skate?” Yuri asked. He had _no_ idea how to navigate through all this.

 

Katsuki looked thoughtful. “You know him better than I do, Yuri. What do you think?" 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri fell into exhausted sleep right after returning back to his room. At first he hadn’t wanted to sleep at all he’d finally managed to convince his body to calm down, knowing that there was no reason to stay up all night since Otabek would be asleep anyway.

 

Now, though, Yuri was wide awake. Light was flickering through the heavy, velvety curtains of his room but he didn’t want to get up just yet.

 

Yuri sighed and turned around in the sheets.

 

Otabek _could_ push aside a row before a skate, Yuri knew it. He was the type of person who could channel all of his energy, even the negative kind, to something else and create something beautiful out of it. He _had_ done it already with his short program that he’d performed just after Yuri had shouted at him.

 

He should let Otabek have space.

 

But. 

 

The free skate. Otabek’s free skate. It was the one Otabek had been more stressed about, having to step out of his comfort zone. It was sexy and playful, a complete opposite of how he’d done in his short program. It was something he’d never tried before. Yuri had seen Otabek perform the program at Four Continents. He’d watched it on Youtube, of course, not having had the time to go there and see it live. It had been good, but Yuri still thought that the best version of that program has been the one Otabek videoed just for him about three weeks before 4CC. Around then, they’d sent each other texts forth and back. They’d been both pent up with nerves and sexual frustration, and -  _god_. Yuri remembered seeing the video. It had been the day after he and Otabek had had amazing phone sex. No skype, just calling each other and panting into each other’s ear until both of them came. The next morning, Otabek had been full of that raw, sexy energy he held inside of him. In the video, Otabek leaned towards the camera and said: _“Let me know what you think of this, Yura.”_ And with a wink and a grin he’d performed by far the most mesmerising program he’d ever done. He’d oozed confidence, determination, the kind of sensuality Christophe Giacometti would have been jealous of. Yuri thought that the fact that he’d moaned out Otabek’s name the night before had had something to do with it.

 

Maybe it didn’t, but Yuri still wanted Otabek to be in best possible shape. Yuri didn't want to undermine Otabek's skills and his ability to do his best in every situation, but Otabek deserved to feel his best when he performed it, so Yuri really didn't want to take any chances. He wanted to clear out air between them in some way. And if Otabek felt even the slightest bit like Yuri did right now, he'd probably want it too. 

 

Having made the decision to at least try to reach out to Otabek, Yuri opened his phone. He stared at the message thread, biting his lip in worry. 

 

<yuri.p> hey

<yuri.p> can we talk

 

His heart stopped when he saw that almost a green dot popped next to Otabek’s name almost immediately. Had he been hoping that Yuri would text him or had he just happened to be near his phone?

 

<Altin.O> Fine.

 

God, the punctuation. Yuri knew Otabek was just a very, very meticulous speller and that he always used grammatically correct language even in text messages. But right now it just seemed passive aggressive, cold and detached.

 

Yuri deserved it, one hundred percent, but it still made him feel like shit.

 

<yuri.p> thank you. when? any time is good for me

 

Yuri saw Otabek typing, the three dots appearing to the bottom of the screen. Then they disappeared, only to appear again a few seconds later. Either he was starting on a really long message or then he hesitated, deleting what he was going to say and then trying again.

 

Yuri realised that he didn’t specify that he wanted to meet face to face.

 

<yuri.p> fuck

<yuri.p> i mean, i want to meet you

<yuri.p> in erson

<yuri.p> *person

<yuri.p> sorry i forgot to add that

<yuri.p> i mean if you dont want to then we can talk like this too

 

He waited.

 

<Altin.O> Yes, I got that. Your room?

 

The urgency in Otabek’s text made Yuri’s heart thump uneasily, but he agreed to meet right away, only to realise that he looked like a trainwreck as did his hotel room.

 

Yuri jumped out of the bed, picking up the clothes he’d thrown to the floor little by little along his stay. He hid the all in his bed, under the duvet. He then ran to the bathroom to take look at his puffy, pale face. He washed it with warm water, slapping some colour to his cheeks before gathering his hair into a quick ponytail. He put on the same clothes he’d worn last night, then waited.

 

Otabek was quick to knock to his door. Yuri’s heart jumped and he took a moment to prepare himself before opening the door.

 

Otabek looked tired, but otherwise well. Yuri tried to find signs of anything Otabek had done during the time they’d spent apart, but could find none. His cheeks weren’t puffy, his eyes weren’t red. He looked like he’d showered and he was wearing clean clothes. Yuri immediately felt embarrassed of his own state and hoped that he would’ve at least showered before texting Otabek.

 

“Hi,"  Yuri said, letting Otabek in the room.

 

“Hi,"  Otabek said, voice clipped. He walked in but didn’t make himself comfortable, instead walking to the middle of the room and then fixing his eyes onto Yuri.

 

A wave of nausea hit Yuri. This certainly the situation he’d hoped when Otabek would visit his hotel room for the first time.

 

“Hi”, Yuri said and realised he’d already said that, like, four seconds ago. He shook his head to clear his mind. Dammit, he really should have prepared for this better, what he was going to say.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. A good, solid start.

 

“I’m sorry too,” Otabek murmured. He wasn’t keeping Yuri’s gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, his eyes wandering around Yuri’s messy room.

 

“What for? Beka, I really am so-”

 

“Look, can we get this over with?” Otabek interrupted with a harsh sigh. “I’d really like to get things done today.”

 

Yuri stared at him, the few thoughts he’d had in his head head escaping. “Get...Get what over with?”

 

“Whatever it is you’re going to tell me.”

 

“I asked you to come here so I could apologize,” Yuri said, feeling wrong-footed and ill. Otabek didn’t sound angry or hostile, he just was very dismissive towards Yuri. He’d gotten so used to Otabek being always attentive and patient, so his behaviour now felt like an ice cold rag thrown in his face.

 

Otabek glanced at him, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “That’s it?”  

 

“Yes. What did you think I was going to sa- ? Oh, fuck, whatever. Listen. It had nothing to do with you, Beka,” Yuri said and closed his eyes to gather himself. “I mean - it _did_ , but I just reacted badly, and I’m sorry. I said things I didn’t mean to.”

 

“But you meant them, at that moment," the boy reminded before returning his gaze to wander around the room. 

 

Yuri huffed in frustration, hoping that Otabek would look at him and not the pile of dirty clothes on his bed. Otabek had expressive eyes and Yuri felt lost when he couldn't see them. 

 

“No, I didn’t. That’s the point - I say stupid shit when I’m upset.”

 

“So I should just forget what you said?” Otabek said, something leaking out from behind his stoic appearance.

 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Yuri shook his head. “It happened, and I’m here to apologise because it’s not what I really think.”

 

After that, Yuri had to wait. He saw Otabek’s profile as the kazakh stubbornly stared away from Yuri. His jaw was tight and Yuri could see him clenching it. Still, Yuri stayed quiet, because he saw that Otabek was thinking something, trying to translate his feelings into words.

  


“You’re not fazed by anything,” he finally said, voice small. Yuri wanted to take a step forward, be closer to him, but he suspected that Otabek might as well take a step _back_ if Yuri did that and he really couldn’t handle being rejected like that.

 

“I just thought it would be a - ” Otabek paused and bit his lip. He ran his hand through his hair. “A nice surprise. Something that would make you happy.” His cheeks flushed, blotchy red in embarrassment of admitting that.

 

“You should have said it to me after,” Yuri said before he could stop himself, and Otabek visibly flinched.  “Ah, fuck - wait, let me just,” Yuri said and let out a harsh breath and decided to took a step closer to Otabek after all. He gripped Otabek’s forearm, gently turning him to face Yuri. Otabek didn’t stop Yuri, but he was tight as a bow under Yuri’s touch. “ _But_   I see why you thought like that. I mean. I _did_ get happy. Too happy, as a matter of fact. And that got me scared, because it’s us. It’s new, and I…”

 

Yuri held in his breath, because talking like this almost caused him physical pain. He didn’t talk about his feelings like this.  He tightened his grip on Otabek’s arm, instinctively seeking out some comfort.  Anxiousness was oozing off from Otabek's every pore, and he looked like he wanted to bolt.

Yuri sought Otabek’s gaze. Katsuki’s _‘he's your first love’_ echoed in Yuri's mind, like a narrative. It made him swallow around a big lump in his throat. The urgency to set things right pushed him forward.

 

“I’ve rarely been interested in anything else than skating, right? You know that.”

 

Otabek nodded. His hands were on his sides, impassive like they were made of stone.

 

“Before I go to the ice, I need to be able to think _“this is the most important moment of my life”_. That’s crucial. That’s what I _do_. But then you said...That.  And I had a fleeting thought of _you_ and the future and relationship stuff and I lost that mindspace. I freaked, and failed. And it wasn’t your fault, I promise.” He wasn’t going to tell Otabek the actual words that had crossed his mind, not yet. 

 

“Beka?” Yuri asked, softly, when Otabek didn’t answer. He was staring at Yuri like he was a riddle and it hurt, because Yuri had gotten used to the fact that Otabek could read him better than anyone.

 

“You say it wasn’t my fault, but it _was_ ”, Otabek insisted. “ _I_ said those words, and because of that, you messed up. There’s no going around it, Yura.”

 

Otabek using the petname he’d given Yuri, in this situation, hurt like hell.

 

Yuri ran his fingers up and down Otabek’s forearms, carefully, not sure whether his touch was welcomed or not. “No, you’re wrong. I was just angry and talking _shit_. You know that. I’m - bad at the emotional stuff. And my first impulse was to yell, and you happened to be there.”

 

“You scored lower than me because of what I said.”

 

“No, no," Yuri said, shaking his head rapidly. “You scored higher than me because you were better. Look, I checked our scores, okay?”  

 

Yuri had; just before he’d decided to call Katsuki, he’d went online and searched for Otabek’s performance. The stab of guilt he'd felt then for not seeing it live had been totally deserved. Yuri had yelled at Otabek, then angered him and stomped to his own room, not even fucking _remembering_ that Otabek had a program to perform, too. Through the tiny screen of his phone, Yuri had seen the tightness in Otabek’s jaw, the weary look in his eyes just before he’d started his program. Yuri didn’t think anyone else noticed - Otabek was always solemn and serious on ice. But Yuri had noticed the difference between being focused and being anxious and hurt.

 

Yuri waited for Otabek to look at him in the eye before he was going to continue. Otabek did, but his expression was pained and stiff, like it hurt him to keep Yuri’s gaze.

 

“I checked our scores, Beka,"  he repeated, “and what they took away from me because of my stumbling was way less than our score difference; even if I’d performed perfectly, you still would’ve gotten a higher score. Because you were _better_ , Beka.”

 

Soft, rosy flush was rising onto Otabek’s cheeks. He broke Yuri’s gaze, breathing out. Yuri saw him staring at the tacky wallpaper of the room, following the lines of it with his eyes.

 

“Listen," Yuri said, again. Otabek didn’t turn his gaze to Yuri, and Yuri didn’t force him to. “You’ve seen me struggle right from the beginning. I had problems at the Euros, mostly with my mental state than anything else. This was just a continuation of that.”  


He paused. He didn’t want to talk about his insecurities because saying them out loud made them feel more real, somehow. But Otabek deserved to hear everything, so he continued:  “Have you noticed how _young_ the people we’re competing against are? Well, I have. I’ve been afraid that I reached my fucking high peak when I was 15, and now there are new skaters of that age who are far more talented than me than I was at their age, than I am _now_. This whole year I’ve been thinking that I can’t let anyone come and steal my thunder, that I’ve just gotta do it, be better, _always_ be better. And It’s been - rough. Battling with my mental state, trying to find the right strive to do everything.  I reacted negatively to your words, yes, but that reflects badly on me, not you."

 

Otabek swallowed.

 

“If you’re going to be bitter about this, Yuri”, he said, words unsure like he didn’t know how to form sentences anymore, “there’s no way this is going to work. You know that, right?”

 

“I do, and I’m _sorry_. I crossed a line.”

 

“Unless you’re one hundred percent sure all this is not going to bother you later, don’t say that to me,” Otabek insisted again. “Are you sure?”

 

Yuri took a calming breath. “I am.”

 

"Really? Because you can have space, be angry with me for a while. But don't pretend we're fine if we're not."

 

"I'm not pretending, Beka."

 

Otabek was looking at him, considering. Then he nodded and said, "Good." 

 

Yuri almost expected to get a kiss or a hug, even a smile. When that didn't happen and the charged atmosphere was still there, Yuri said the first thing that came to his head, as per usual: 

“If it makes you feel any better, I once called Viktor a donkey in national tv because he’d sneezed loudly just before I started skating and it irritated me enough that I stumbled on my first _second_ of that performance. He was getting interviewed and I just walked behind him and called him that,"  Yuri said. 

That earned him a laugh. A short, hiccupy laugh, but a laugh nonetheless, and it felt better than anything Yuri had experienced in the last fucking _month._

 

"I should go. Breakfast, training, et cetera. Big day tomorrow," Otabek sighed.  Yuri bit his tongue not to ask for Otabek to stay or to have breakfast with him, but he also understood that Otabek was clearly implying that they shouldn't see each other today at all. So instead, he just nodded. 

 

Otabek walked past Yuri to the door before turning around and taking a good look at Yuri.

 

"You've been drinking caffeine and you haven't slept. Please drink lots of water today, have a nap and let Viktor and Yuuri feed you back into shape, okay?"

 

Dumbly, Yuri nodded again. Otabek gave him a small, relieved smile and was about to close the door when Yuri opened his mouth.

 

“Wait! We're -  we're not fighting,  right? We're good?”

 

Otabek had to pause and think. Yuri wasn’t offended by it  - he respected Otabek’s honesty.

 

“I think so”, he finally said, and that was enough for Yuri. He smiled and watched Otabek disappear behind the corner.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will include the free skate & the After Gala (YO IT'S FINALLY GONNA GET EXPLICIT)
> 
> It will be also the last chapter of this series! 
> 
> I’d like to thank you for your patience and all the kind words and encouragement you’ve given me! Thank you so much! <3 Please let me know what you've liked so far! Also, it's once again over midnight when I'm posting so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry & you can drag me about them asdsf


	4. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt confident in his free skate; while he had been battling with his short program and the subtleness and softness of it, his free skate was definitely something he felt more comfortable with.
> 
> Yuri lifted his gaze up, gave a nod to the judges, and began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm so sorry for the long wait, but here I am, back with an update! Enjoy <3

 

The sound of ice cutting under his skates was familiar and calming - actually, it was the the most familiar memory of Yuri’s past week yet. He didn’t feel wrongfooted, he didn’t feel like he was only learning how to walk. Yuri closed his eyes and breathed deep. It had been a while since he’s actually been on the ice without dreading failing.

 

Since his and Otabek’s conversation, Yuri’s felt a lot calmer. He wasn’t completely okay, still battling with the shame of fucking things up, but he was better. Before, he’d been afraid and unsure just how wrong things between them were, but now he more or less knew where he and Otabek stood. At least they hadn’t broken up, and at least they would properly talk about it after the competition was over. Yuri still hurt, but that was easier to process than other feelings - he was used to pushing through pain.

 

Yuri glanced at the audience, sold out to the last seat, and distractedly thought that he probably shouldn’t feel _not_ nervous. Not understanding the importance of what you were about to do was damaging, he knew that. He didn’t think that Katsuki-level nervousness was healthy either (Yuri had hated to see him battle with his anxiety, because he was on the top 3 of flawless people in the world, basically) but being too nonchalant never lead to anything.

 

He felt better now. Centered. He shouldn’t feel at peace with the idea that he wasn’t going to win - he was an athlete who had been striving to be the best for his entire life - but he did. It didn’t meant that Yuri wasn’t going to fight. While he didn’t have high enough difficulty level in his program to get him a score high enough to win anymore and he wasn’t about to change his program at the last minute like a dumbass, he still had a good chance to land himself maybe bronze if he skated cleanly enough.

 

This hasn’t been his year, but he could still fight to the end of it.

 

Yuri breathed in through his nose and smelled the clean ice under him. He didn’t look for Otabek’s gaze in the crowd, instead counting his own heartbeats. He could do this. He fleetingly thought of himself at the age of 9 - the struggles of not really having friends and having no interest in playing outdoor games like hacky sack with the other kids his age. The struggles of being alone most of the time. Despite that Dadushka had always come to his practise, had always packed him snacks and always cheered him up, Yuri had been alone on that ice. It was still that way; once you stepped into that rink, you were alone for as long as your program lasted. And the thought of it felt safe to Yuri. The life around him changed, the people around him left, but the ice - it remained. The one constant that had carried him through his hardest years.

 

He felt confident in his free skate; while he had been battling with his short program and the subtleness and softness of it, his free skate was definitely something he felt more comfortable with. It was strong and entertaining with quick step sequences and toe loops he always felt good performing.

 

Yuri lifted his gaze up, gave a nod to the judges, and began.

  


**

 

Yuri had learned to become a very conscious skater. He knew when he looked good and when his skating looked effortless and seamless. He’d learned it the hard way - the first three years of his competitive career, Yakov had videoed Yuri’s practise and then showed him his mistakes frame by frame, making Yuri figure out the reasons he’d fallen or stumbled, why his step choreography had looked forced. It had always left a sour taste in Yuri’s mouth but eventually he’d learned to swallow his pride and not feel hurt that his every mistake was always dissected like that.

 

At some point, he’d had a picture in his mind about how his skating looked like, and often it had been different from the real thing. It had happened somewhere between when he was 14 or 15  - the age when he’d just started to compete alongside his much older rivals, making him feel like he knew _everything_ and could do _anything_. That had made him blind about the real level of his skating, blurred by his burning ambition. Yuri had been emotional and frustrated, not understanding why what he was feeling didn’t always translate to his skating despite having talent, why his skating always looked different from what he’d imagined it in his head.

 

Now, though, when Yuri said he was conscious about his skating, he really _was_. He knew exactly what he looked like on ice, just how high he jumped and how expressive his ballet moves he’d transferred to skating (courtesy of Lilia, of course) actually were. He had no unrealistic illusions about himself anymore.

 

That’s why he let himself to breathe and smile widely when he ended his program. He’d done well, he knew that. He hadn’t had to do any damage control this time, which was a _huge_ relief. Yuri tried his best not to think that he wasn’t going to win or even get to third place, but instead focused on the fact that he’d ended this season gracefully and his head held up high. Well, if you didn’t count in the way he’d stormed out of the kiss and cry after his short program, denying interviews with colourful curses in Russian.

 

Legs feeling like jelly, Yuri dragged himself off the ice, giving a few waves to the direction of the loudest cheers - Yuri’s Angels, most likely. Yakov slapped him in the back with content murmurs at the kiss and cry when they heard Yuri’s scores. He was in first place, obviously, since he’d been the first one to perform. Yuri wasn’t sure whether he wanted to sit here and watch his name drop lower and lower on the scoreboard, but he _did_ want to see at least one program.

 

Otabek’s.

 

Yuri tried not to seek out Otabek in the sea of people, didn’t want to think about how not finding him made him anxious even though he’d personally avoided Otabek the whole morning. They’d agreed to take some space until after they’d both skated - a wise decision.

 

Actually, pretending Otabek wasn’t there was pretty easy to Yuri because he had practise - he’d been secretly pining after Otabek for a long while, so looking in the other direction from him as they both were in the preparation area before competitions came naturally to him.

 

Yuri just wished he hadn’t made Otabek feel worse, even though it was been Otabek who’d so clearly asked for some space.

 

“Yuri!” Viktor’s voice appeared behind him and a warm palm pressed between his shoulder blades.  “Oof, that was amazing! Lilia must be pleased to see you master her moves like that.”

 

Yuri turned around, just in time before Katsuki leaned in to hug him. “That was great, Yuri. Are you feeling alright?”

 

He had his hands on Yuri’s shoulders, head tilted to the side. Yuri gave a shy nod, blood rushing to his face when he was reminded of bothering Katsuki in the middle of the night because of a boy crisis. The way Katsuki managed to make everything look so easy and approachable was a mystery to Yuri; how he just could smile like that and ask if he was alright without even a hint of uncomfortableness in his features.

 

“Did you talk to Otabek?” Katsuki asked Yuri, voice a little bit lower, after making sure Viktor was engrossed with Yakov and not listening. Yuri appreciated that.

 

“I did,” Yuri said and cleared his throat. “It’s - better. We’re still together, at least”, he said. In Yuri’s mind, his and Otabek’s conversation had been mostly damage control - to get the loudest, ugliest feelings out so that they could both perform without wanting to rip their heads off from uncertainty.

 

Katsuki scoffed. “Of course you are still together! You’re Yuri and Otabek!”

 

“Yuri and Otabek?” He asked, amused. To him, Yuri and Otabek meant two boys who didn’t know when to prioritize their career over their love life, and two boys who were pretty shit at communicating or expressing themselves in any other way than skating.

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Katsuki said pointedly. “‘Yuri and Otabek’ as in ‘made for each other’.”

 

“Are you betting on us or something?” Yuri smiled.

 

“I have no one to bet against; everyone thinks you’re a great match,” Katsuki said back, his thumbs caressing Yuri’s collarbones.

 

Yuri didn’t know what to say to that. He looked around the rink for - well, he didn’t know exactly. Guidance, maybe.

 

“Is it going to get easier?” He asked Katsuki, deciding that this whole week had been dedicated to him spilling his guts out about his feelings - he could might as well continue down that road.

 

“Is what?”

 

Yuri tried to find the real words by searching for them from the ceiling. “The - the fact that we’re both skating as a profession. Being able to perform well without cutting off the other person momentarily. The...The balance between dating and skating” , Yuri stumbled a little around the syllables, finding the real words being hard. He wasn’t used to reaching out to his feelings to transform them into understandable sentences.

 

Katsuki’s hands on Yuri’s shoulders tightened momentarily. “It’s going to get easier,” he said. His voice was reassuring and warm,  but Yuri had to huff and give him a disbelieving look.

 

“That’s it? You just _know_?”

 

A wide smile. “Yes, Yuri, I know. You’ve never had a boyfriend before, so you don’t even _realise_ yet just how messed up and caught up in your emotions you are right now. You’ll realise it when you’ve been dating for a longer time - you’ll look back and you go ‘wow, how did I even _function_ back then?’. I’m not saying your feelings towards Otabek will get smaller - they’re just going to get easier to manage.”

 

Yuri gave a thoughtful hum.

 

“And right now,” Katsuki continued, “you’re having a lot on your plate. Being in a relationship is new and exciting and scary in the beginning as it is, but on top of that you and Otabek have been spending most of that time apart. And now you’re seeing each other, at the _Worlds_. It’s a lot, Yuri. But I also think it’s going to be a lot smoother sailing after this.”

 

Yuri let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. There was no way Katsuki could possibly _know_ all that and promise Yuri that it was all going to be alright, but it still felt good to hear out loud. Hearing it meant that he’d managed to exaggerate things in his head, as if what had happened between himself and Otabek was something irreversible. Well, it wasn’t like Yuri could take back his words, but maybe he hadn’t blown it all.

 

***

 

Otabek was to perform last.

 

It was just as shitty a place to skate as being the first one was.

 

Otabek being the last also meant that Yuri’d had to distract himself a little after his own performance, because he didn’t want to spend time watching his competitors perform, nor could he go find Otabek just before his skate. Katsuki and Viktor had tried to lure him into the crowd to watch others perform but Yuri hadn’t wanted that. The whole competition had been so emotionally draining that now that he’d done his part, he didn’t even want to speculate other skaters’ scores or admire their moves.

 

Yuri had never been very good at waiting patiently. But he made the most of the time anyway. He answered some messages he’d gotten and hadn’t answered yet, posted a few general sightseeing pics to Instagram and window-shopped at his favourite online stores.

 

Finally, _finally_ it was late enough for him to return to the rinkside. He instantly spotted Otabek by the rinkside. Yuri could see that he was more anxious than usual. He had earphones on and he was stretching lightly, jumping up and down and rolling his wrists and shoulders - preparing.

He glanced at the scoreboard every now and then, all the while biting his lip.

 

Yuri wasn’t surprised that he was nervous, but he still felt bad about it. Otabek had done great with his short program - fucking fantastic, actually. Yuri didn’t want to jinx it, but he thought that Otabek could easily win this time. And from the looks of it, Otabek knew it too. If he got through with his program without messing up big time, he’d probably win. But his free skate program _was_ a bit unconventional - at least by his own standards. This program relied much more on presentation than technique, and that wasn’t something Otabek usually did.

 

Yuri felt a bang of regret inside him, and not for the first time. He’d caused unnecessary drama between them when he should have cleared both of them from any distractions. His disappointment in his own program was justified, but blaming Otabek for his mistakes _wasn’t_.

 

Yuri wanted to go to Otabek, tell him good luck and maybe hug him and kiss him. But that would be selfish. Otabek didn’t look like he wanted anyone to distract him. He had earplugs on - an universal code for ‘don’t come any closer’ - and he was rolling his neck, counting to five under his breath and clearly going over his program in his head, his arms moving in a familiar manner. He was focused and his mind was occupied by skating, and only skating - as it should be.

 

So Yuri stayed away. Otabek had given him the space before his own performance - it was only fair that he did the same.

 

Otabek nodded to something his coach said, face emotionless and stern, and shed himself off his jacket. Yuri’s breath hitched when he saw Otabek’s performance clothes underneath.

  


His pants were as loose as they were allowed - which was not much, but enough to give the crowd a taste of what was to come. His shirt, though, drove Yuri crazy. Otabek was wearing a shirt that was as open on the front as it could be without falling off from his shoulders and without being against the regulations, showing his defined chest and collarbones for everyone to see. He had a tacky, golden necklace decorating his chest and his hair - short on the sides, longer and wavier on the top - was open but styled to only fall on the other side.  Yuri knew the commentators on TV were going nuts right about now - no one had ever seen Otabek in such clothes, and Yuri bet that they saw the golden chain around his neck as a prediction of the final scores.

 

Otabek skated to the centre of the rink, and Yuri found himself holding his breath. He’d seen Otabek’s free program on TV and on the practice videos Otabek had sent him, but it was going to be _completely_ different seeing it while standing at the edge of the rink, being so close to him.

 

Otabek gave the cue that he was ready, and after that it was like a switch had been turned on. He started his skate with looking down, but the _second_ the music began, he lifted his head up, gave a wide, cheeky grin, and began. Yuri already knew how Otabek started his program - that was something Otabek had shown Yuri videos about. He’d found it difficult to get the right kind of energy right from the start, something that swept the audience off their feet in the beginning. He wanted to _surprise_ them.

 

While Yuri knew Otabek’s choreography, it was like he was watching a different performance right now. Otabek had found what he’d wanted  - the energy, the vibe. He was so captivating and beautiful, and it was _all. there._ \- everything it took to win.

 

Now, with the finished product in front of his eyes, Yuri _definitely_ saw why Otabek hadn't wanted to have sex in the middle of the competition. The performance was pretty… Exciting.  He didn't probably purposely do it and it didn't resemble a lapdance like some skaters’ did,  but that made it more enticing to watch.  His hips moved in perfect alignment with the music,  the beats and silences acting as a platform for Otabek's body to move. His hips _did_ move,  thrusts and swirls perfunctory and completely purposeful. Oh, god.

 

Otabek was vibrating dangerous, exciting energy that filled the whole ice hall. Yuri thought that everyone was holding their breath - they, too, sensed the anticipating atmosphere in the building.

 

Yuri could see why Otabek had been concerned about this choreography.  It relied  a lot more on style and artistic freedom than technical scores -  very daring for someone who was known for his perfect, clean jumps. This program was a lot messier and it needed charisma to work. It was a choreography Christophe Giagometti might have done in his earlier years,  a playful and smoking hot _sexy_ performance that left the audience panting.  It wasn't something the no-nonsense, quiet Kazakh would do. Or at least that’s what you _thought._

 

Everyone loved the show, Yuri could tell. Watching Otabek was entertainment at its best - there wasn’t even a split of a second where you needed to worry that he wasn’t going to land all his jumps, no.

 

The name _Otabek Altin_ would be on everyone's lips after this. Well, it was already - he was Kazakhstan’s star boy, an idol to so many. But this was something that was going to spread around Youtube and Twitter and fucking _Tumblr_ because it was so, so hot.

 

Yuri felt butterflies in his stomach as he watched his boyfriend enjoy himself on the ice, and he tried to breathe through the intense proudness he felt for Otabek.

 

Yuri didn’t recognise the music. It was something unique, something very different from what Otabek usually worked with. It was something you could hear in a club; the melody relied on the beats of it, the heavy thud. You were supposed to focus on them, not the string melody twined around it. And the _only_ way you could make a choreography around that kind of music was to have _perfect_ sense of rhythm, every single flick of a wrist in sync with the music, every jump on point. Actually, now that Yuri thought about it, it was exactly what Otabek would do. It wasn’t sloppy, no matter what some people said. His loose hips were distracting, true, but the choreography actually required precision and strength. A _lot_. The judges would notice that.  

 

On ice, Otabek landed a perfect triple axel and gave a dazzling smile, extending his arms and lifting his chin up.  Yuri’s heart skipped a beat. A _big_ beat. It was something that made his head swim, heart constrict and a definite blush rise to his cheeks. Otabek usually _never_ smiled during his performances. This smile was a bigger smile than his own, private one was. But it was a warm, cheeky one and Yuri could honest-to-god _hear_ the delighted sighs in the audience.

 

Otabek was a vision. No matter whether he won or not, this was going to be one of the most memorable choreographies of this year.

 

The camera work had better be amazing and capture Otabek’s performance well because Yuri was going to watch the _fuck_ out of this one later.

 

On the next intake of breath Yuri took, it was over. He blinked as the sea of voices and applaud filled the whole room, not believing that roughly five minutes was already over, then joined in. Otabek, bowing on ice, looked bashful and out of breath, giving awkward waves to the crowd and picking out one of the plushy bears thrown to the ice in his arms. He got roses, _so much_ roses he almost had to dodge them not to trip over.

 

Otabek deserved it _all._ All the praise, the recognition, the love, the attention. He’d worked so hard _all his life_ , and he goddamn deserved to be admired.

 

With legs a little shaky (Yuri doubted that anyone else noticed, but he’d seen Otabek after he’d given his all and he knew what the boy looked like when he tried to will his muscles from trembling), Otabek made his way to the kiss and cry. He got an affectionate hug from his coach who looked over the moon, but Otabek just looked flushed and dazed, like he couldn’t believe it was over.

 

Yuri looked around himself. Everyone was as nervous as Otabek. Everyone had their own guess on the winner, their favourites and least favourites. Otabek’s score was the one thing that was going to determine everyone’s placement in the final.

 

Despite the noises in the hall and the commentary of the presenters, everyone was holding their breath. Yuri was too. He was rooted on the spot, at the side of the rink with a bunch of other skaters and personnel, about twenty meters away from Otabek.

 

There were times when the seconds literally dragged and dragged on, the pointer of the imaginative clock on top of their heads getting slower and slower. 

 

The results appeared on the screen.

 

Otabek won.

 

Yuri gasped in relieved joy, his heart filling with emotions that were going to come out as tears if he wasn’t careful. He instantly shot his eyes to Otabek, still sitting at the kiss and cry. He saw Otabek’s eyes widen, his deep-brown eyes glinting more than usual, the side of mouth crunching and nostrils widening in a tell-tale sign of tears.

 

Otabek had won. He had won _The World Figure Skating Championships._

 

The audience started clapping and yelling enthusiastically once again for Otabek,his fans jumping up and down with Kazakhstan’s flag in their hands. Otabek’s coach was hugging him and saying something to him laughing, but Otabek was frozen, staring at the screen in disbelief. His brow was scrunched up like he was counting the scores over and over again, trying to make sure that no one had messed up. It was easy math, even Yuri could do it - there had been no mistake done. Otabek had won. It was a clear, honest and deserved win. It was also Otabek’s personal best of this season.

 

Finally, after staring at the screen like a statue, Otabek broke down and hid his face in the bear plushy in his hands a fan had given him, pressing his forehead to his knees. Yuri’s heart clenched, his heart jumping to his throat at seeing how overwhelmed Otabek was. The tips of his ears (the only part of him you could see now, really) were bright red. His coach was still laughing and shaking Otabek, talking to his ear, probably saying something like “you have to get up eventually, you know” and “it’s true, you better believe!”

 

Yuri wanted to go to him but he couldn’t just run over to the kiss and cry, right?

 

But then Otabek’s head shot up and he looked around the rink, eyes finding Yuri. Yuri couldn’t hear him, but he saw Otabek’s mouth forming his name, and that was his cue.

 

Yuri didn’t run, but he made his way very, very, _very_ urgently to Otabek, who’d finally gotten up. His coach was still talking to him and he was being nudged towards an interview, but Otabek didn’t register them; his eyes were fixed on Yuri.

 

As Yuri reached Otabek, he physically felt the stress of _months_ melting off of him. He felt no bad blood between them, only unbelievable joy and happiness.

  


“Yura -”  Otabek gasped, then stopped and gulped audibly. His cheeks were flushed and he looked more confused and dazed than Yuri had ever seen him. He looked so _happy_ , but also unsure. And Yuri _knew_ he was wondering whether he should push down his joy, as if he shouldn’t gloat in front of Yuri in case he felt bad about not winning.

 

Fucking idiot boy, Yuri thought. Otabek had won _gold._  The most hardworking, diligent, consistent, inspiring skater Yuri had ever met, and he was still thinking about Yuri.

That wouldn’t do. This was Otabek’s thunder, his moment.

 

Yuri yanked Otabek to him, hugging him. He wanted to snog his boyfriend breathless, but they were _still_ around dozens of cameras and this was all going to international TV. Him hugging Otabek this close, mouth close to his ear, was more than enough to blow up the whole figure skating fan base.

 

“You’re amazing”, he whispered into Otabek’s ear. “You’re amazing and you deserved to win more than anyone else in the entire world, _period_. Okay?”

 

Otabek was breathing hard against Yuri but he didn’t say anything. Yuri stepped back a little, just enough to press his palms to Otabek’s flushed cheeks. He smiled, holding nothing back, letting his emotions show on his face, hoping that his admiration and affection for the boy were visible.

 

“ _I said_ : Okay, winner boy?”

 

Otabek laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “I - okay, yeah.”

 

Yuri hummed appreciatively.  “Good. Now go fix your hair and get that medal around your neck, and _don’t stumble on the pedestal_.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised to wrap this up in four chapters, but this chapter got so long that I absolutely had to split it in two! :) 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this one! <3


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